


Utah Hunt

by LadyDrace



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Meetings, Grief/Mourning, M/M, POV Chris Argent, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Since Victoria is dead and Allison decided to move to France with her werewolf boyfriend, Chris figured he might as well start actively hunting again. On one hunt, however, he meets someone he doesn't expect...





	Utah Hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naminia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naminia/gifts).



> I've set this in roughly season 3 of Teen Wolf, in an AU where Allison didn't die (because I felt like it), and in season 8 of Supernatural. As far as I can figure, Sam never walked out on Dean in canon after their arguments about Benny, but I feel like he could have needed a week or so of solo hunting to cool off, so. That's what this is.  
> Also, I left it up to the reader which werewolf Allison went to France with. Go wild.
> 
> Written for Naminia. Thank you so much for the prompt! :D

Chris is on a hunt in Utah, of all places, when he runs into Sam Winchester.

 

He's aware of the Winchesters the way that most hunters are aware of each other. Names are sometimes thrown around. A guy who knows a guy. Someone who can help in this or that area. And, of course, the Winchesters have also earned themselves a reputation purely from their disorganized but frighteningly effective methods.

 

The supernatural community is pretty terrified of them. No wonder, because as far as Chris knows, the Winchesters follow no particular code. They aren't the only ones playing by their own rules, but, in Chris' experience, the code-less hunters are the ones most likely to get innocent people hurt.

 

Supernatural or otherwise.

 

So he's somewhat surprised to realize that this particular Winchester has a pretty cool head on his shoulders in the fight they both end up in, but when he tells the guy as much he just gets a wry huff in return. “Right now, sure. But as soon as I'm back with my brother...” he shakes his head, and Chris doesn't push.

 

“Well. How about a drink, then? I feel like I owe you one.” Chris would most likely have survived the unexpected brawl with the ghoul that backtracked on itself and took him by surprise without Sam's help, but probably not without injury. And anything that saves him another scar is worth a stiff drink. Besides, Sam seems like a nice guy, and his eyes are soft on Chris as they head back to their cars.

 

“Okay, sure,” Sam says agreeably, and leads the way to a nearby bar, proving that he's familiar with the area, and making Chris send him a questioning look. Not that it gets him anything other than a vague shrug, but considering all the places he's heard stories from about the Winchesters, it's not unlikely that Sam has actually been there several times before.

 

The bar they enter is a lot less sticky and grungy than Chris had expected for a hunter's bar. Which makes sense when he realizes it's actually not a common hunter node. Now he _has_ to ask.

 

“Not in the mood for shop talk?” he asks as they pick a nicely secluded table in the corner, backs against the wall.

 

Sam waits to answer until he's ordered his beer and the waitress has left. “Everyone here knows me and Dean. And I really don't feel like defending myself to everyone right now.”

 

Chris blinks at him, a little confused, because as far as he knows the Winchesters are rarely, if ever, questioned about their methods. Chris is a hunter, but he understands the downsides of his profession, and one of the main ones is a tendency to turn a blind eye if it gets shit done. “Does that... happen to you a lot?”

 

“You'd be surprised.”

 

“Clearly. Last time I checked, hunting was not the kind of business other people butted into.”

 

Sam huffs again. “With a name like mine, suddenly it's everyone's business.”

 

“Hm,” Chris hums, and accepts his beer from the waitress. “Maybe things have changed since I was on the road last.”

 

“Maybe. You settle down?”

 

Chris nods. “Had a kid. Went into arms trade instead.”

 

“But you're back now?”

 

The familiar wash of grief makes him clench his jaw, but he still nods. “Things change.”

 

Sam just nods and offers his glass for a clink, which Chris accepts. Someone as young as Sam shouldn't be able to understand the kind of grief Chris is carrying, but his eyes reveal an almost ancient wisdom, and Chris feels like he's being properly understood for the the first time since Victoria died.

 

“Want me to butt out?” Sam asks in the same tone a normal person would ask if you need to talk about it. The kid clearly gets it.

 

“It's fine. My wife died. Bit by a werewolf. It was... ugly. Daughter's in France now with her werewolf boyfriend.”

 

Sam's eyebrows go up for a second before he snorts. “Well, that's just ironic.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No, I mean... well it _is_ , but it's also ironic because my problem is pretty much the same. Things got ugly, a lot of people died, and when I finally thought I got my brother back for good, he came with a vampire BFF. And he likes _him_ more than me.” Sam is obviously trying for a joking tone, but it falls incredibly flat, and Chris clinks their glasses again, because what else can he do.

 

They sit in silence for a while, just sipping their beers.

 

Every time he's fresh off a hunt, Chris can't help but feel like the normal world seems almost fake in its innocence, and he gazes around at all the normal people around them, talking and drinking like there aren't monsters out there around every corner. He always ends up wondering how it would be to live like that. He's only ever really known hunting, and judging from the weary slump of Sam's shoulders he's in the same boat, and Chris feels abruptly sad for them both.

 

“Hey,” he asks. “Got a place to stay?”

 

Sam shrugs, which Chris takes to mean that he either hasn't decided on a place yet, or is planning on sleeping in his car.

 

“I got a double at the Fairbridge motel,” Chris explains. It was an accident. A habit left over from hunting with Victoria back in the day. “King size bed. No need for it to go to waste.”

 

Sam gives him a long look, obviously trying to work out his motive, and Chris lets Sam see the worry in his face.

 

“Sure,” Sam says eventually. “Why not. I could use the company. I'm not used to hunting alone,” he admits, and Chris determinedly finishes his beer without touching on the topic of family again.

 

Sam is actually a great conversationalist, and Chris is surprised to find himself laughing several times during the night. It's unfamiliar but pleasant, and quite a lot more intoxicating than the weak beers they share before heading for the motel.

 

It's been few years since he was on the road, but Chris still has his routine before turning in for the night. Make sure the car is fuled and ready to go on short notice. Disassemble and clean his guns. Check his stores of salt, mountain ash and the other main magical substances needed in his profession. Keep his jacket and shoes close, and only sleep as much as strictly necessary. As sure as he is that the ghoul was alone and is now very much dead, experience is a harsh teacher, and any hunter worth their salt know to be prepared when away from whatever home base is.

 

Sam probably has similar routines but tags along with Chris' pattern easy as breathing, revealing a lifetime of practice at following someone else's lead. Typical younger brother syndrome.

 

What's less typical is the brash look he sends Chris when he undresses for bed, obviously aware of his youth and attractiveness, and completely unashamed in just his boxer briefs as he lies down in the middle of the bed, long, tan limbs going on for what seems like miles on the hideous bed spread.

 

It's not that Chris is unfamiliar with post-hunt hookups, or that he's unwilling as such. He's just not sure either of them is in any fit state of mind to let their guard down quite so much, and he's also not entirely clear on Sam's motivations.

 

“Do you know what you're doing?” he asks, matching Sam's level of undress without feeling self conscious. A hunter's life is simply too short for it.

 

Sam smirks, hands behind his head, the very picture of cocky, but there's still that tightness to his mouth hinting at pain. “It's an offer,” he says. “Take it or leave it.”

 

Chris takes the time to put his clothes over the back of a chair, make sure they're untangled and easy to get on quickly if needed, and gets some small satisfaction out of Sam's smirk going slightly unsure.

 

“I didn't read you wrong, did I?” Sam asks eventually, and Chris can't help but smile.

 

“No. No, kid, you got me me pretty well pegged. Any other time I'd be game. But right now...” he lets the words hang there, and after a moment Sam sits up instead, resting his arms on his knees.

 

“If you'd prefer getting my own room-”

 

“No. You can stay. But just... don't expect too much,” Chris warns. Because he's fine with sharing closeness with someone for a night, but he's not ready for anything more yet. He will be, one day. But not yet.

 

Sam's smile goes more genuine, and he runs a hand through his hair almost bashfully. “Well. Like I said, it's an offer. How much of the offer you wanna take me up on is up to you.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Having cleared that up, Chris crawls into bed, meeting Sam in the middle and opening his arms. There's an almost innocent sort of delight on Sam's face as he accepts the invitation, and it's vaguely ridiculous how he snuggles up as if he's not, in fact, six foot five and broader than Chris by several inches. But feeling someone settle against him is exactly what Chris needs, in a way he wasn't even fully aware of. He's missed this, to his very bones, and he lets out a heavy sigh of pleasure as Sam finds a home in the crook of his arm.

 

The bed is really too short for this, and Sam's feet are curled up against the footboard. But neither of them say anything, and Chris turns off the light feeling like he might sleep tonight for more than an hour or two.

 

Sam lets out a sigh to match Chris', and as sleep starts to pull at them, Chris lets his lips find Sam's forehead for a gentle kiss, and lets himself think for just a tiny moment that maybe Sam won't feel the need to return to his brother anytime soon.

 

Maybe.

 

Stranger things have happened.

 

End.

 


End file.
